Ad Noctem
by Polly
Summary: While in Vader's custody, Luke accidently triggers memories of a past Vader was hoping to forget.
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER: I own none of them. George Lucas does. I get no money. George Lucas does. I have no mansion. Geor - Oh hell, this could go on forever but you get the drill. Please no law suits - that's about the gist of it!  
  
SUMMARY: Whilst captured and living in Vader's custody, Luke and his father embark on what should have been a routine diplomatic mission but what turns into a haunting and dangerous reminder of Anakin Skywalker's past.   
  
NOTE - PLEASE READ. IMPORTANT INFO: This is the beginning of a series I've been toying with for some years now. This section is basically the prologue - setting the scene but there is more currently in progress. The back-story is very simple: Luke was captured by Vader about 4 months after ANH - he is still 18 (my thanks to those who helped me out on that one!) and he has been living on board Vader's ship. The Emperor has given Vader one year to turn Luke and at the end of that year, Luke must be handed over to the Emperor, whatever side he currently allies with. I'm terribly lazy by not beginning at the beginning but neither did Lucas. Not that I'm anywhere near as successful as him...here we go again. :) I could do that if people were at all interested but I realise I may be presuming too much! Anyway, please enjoy.  
  
AD NOCTEM -Prologue  
  
  
  
Mists and sands swirled and mingled effortlessly over the horizon of the almost barren section of the planet. It was by no means a fruitless planet - in fact there were regions of luscious grasslands - tundra of vast expanse. There were seas that seemed to go on forever and a marine-armed force to put the wind up any of it's rivalling planets that continuously vied for control of marinal merchandise. This was merely the desert region - one of many as it happens. It was the inhabitants of this rather shabbier section of land that now looked up, shades of trepidation creasing their sun-weathered brows as the unnatural shadow cast them all into prolonged, looming darkness. They guessed, or rather hoped, that this was something to do with their neighbouring regions - maybe, probably the water worlds. They had the most to offer, after all. What did they have? Nothing and that was the way they were content to keep it. The sandstorms, so quick to call to arms at the slightest provocation, were having a veritable field day as the heavy, metallic rumbling that accompanied the blackness stirred them up mercilessly. They took the moment of sand-induced ocular irritation, to cast their eyes away from the sky and to exchange low, meaningful glances with their companions. These were moments of change and they all knew it, deep, deep down. They couldn't stay hidden from them forever. No one could. The sands cleared a little, just as the shadows began to recede. With sudden, blinding clarity, they resumed their watch of the sky as the Imperial Star Ship completed its pass: for now, over their region. The huddled mass breathed an audible sigh of borrowed relief and gladly shuffled off to continue with the everyday normality of their lives.  
  
  
"What's the news, Commander?" Piett asked, addressing the officer who had obviously been sent, with report in hand from the Damone region. "The Regional Governor of the Greco Section has extended an open invitation to our party, Sir. He's organised a tour of the shipping docks and all of their merchandise. An itinerary has been forwarded for our approval." He indicated a small data-pad, which he held. "Should I..." He hesitated for a moment, clearly unsure of the prospect, "should I give this to Lord Vader?" Piett almost smiled at the man's reluctance to strike up any communication between himself and their superior officer. Possibly he gained his promotion through similar events as his own was procured? Watching your predecessor choke to death beside you, did little to promote the notion of Imperial retirement plan packages. The ladder up was indeed a treacherously slippery one.   
  
He answered the man's question by holding out his hand for the data pad in question. "Not necessary, Commander. Give it to me, I'll deliver it." The man gratefully did so. He ended his report, saluted and left. Admiral Piett glanced down at the pad and gave the contents a quick but thorough glance: Nothing that should upset Vader in here. With faint amusement, he briefly contemplated the bizzarness of his situation. A mere matter of months ago, he would have felt exactly the same way about facing Vader as that retreating commander had but ever since one very significant meeting in which he was given an assignment, both unenvied by his peer group and seemingly beneath his rank and status, nothing would ever be quite the same. He remembered it well: that was the day when a very special prisoner had been captured from a rebel base and been brought on board. Piett had been suddenly called off his duty and into Vader's private offices. Then, the weight of the world had been theoretically placed on his shoulders. Vader had given him his son. As if he had even known that the man had a son - was capable of a son! Well he was, and the boy was actually a pretty good kid. He was glad to note that where it counted, the kid was nothing like his father.   
  
He set off for Vader's quarters - a place he had become much more familiar with visiting. Reaching the outer doors, he knocked and waited for a response. A few members of his peer group watched him with curious glances as they walked past. Though he couldn't be sure, Piett suspected he saw just a hint of jealously in their hard eyes as well. After all, they were the same men who had practically pitied and jeered at him when he had first been lumbered with the 'babysitting detail' but now, now that they realised the full potentials, they began to regret their own misfortunes. They saw Piett as the Dark Lord's confidant, his closest bridge member. The brat brought benefits with him that they had not had the foresight to appreciate. The facts were simple, though: wherever Vader went, he wanted his son with him and wherever his son went, Piett went too.   
  
Presently he heard the command to enter and did so. Vader was seated behind an imposing desk and did not rise to meet him. Piett was used to this though. "Lord Vader," he began, "I have the proposed itinerary from the Regional Governor of Greco, if you would care to look it over?"   
Vader nodded, slightly. "Bring it here, Admiral." He held out one hand and Piett crossed the room, moved behind the desk and handed it to him. Not before, he mused: I would have stood in front of the desk and leaned over. "Very good, Admiral," Vader said as he looked it over, "I shall have a report sent when I have looked at this in detail."  
"As you wish, my Lord," Piett agreed. He stood a little straighter to attention. "Will that be all, Lord Vader?" Vader seemed to contemplate him for a moment, leaning back slightly in his chair, his mask never once betraying an expression or a clue. "No", he said at length. " I want my son ready to accompany me on this journey." He didn't miss the look of surprise that fleeted across Piett's face before he could reign it in. Still, Vader thought, not only had he been expecting it, but it was also faintly amusing. "You see a problem with this, Admiral?" he asked, evenly. He knew the man would have the courage to speak the truth on this matter: he usually did when it came to his son.  
"Well, Sir - it's just that Luke has never been off the ship before, not unless he was being transferred to another ship. I don't think he'd try to escape or contact his friends, but I couldn't predict what his attitude and behaviour would be like."  
" I am aware of this, Piett and I am resolute that my son will be by my side during these negotiations. You will see to it, that I do not have to be as disappointed with him tomorrow as I was today." At this Piett did raise an eyebrow in surprise. "Luke has disobeyed you today?" he asked, concerned. He thought he had taught the boy more discipline and sense than that - especially where his father was concerned. After all, where Vader had taken it upon himself to train the boy, his care and raising had been left to Piett, as was his education.   
"He has," Vader confirmed. "He was most reluctant and insolent during training. I have had to...correct him. I do not expect to have to waste precious training time like that in the future."  
"Of course not, my Lord," Piett assured him. "It won't happen again." Vader was satisfied to see the hardening of the man's jaw line, confirming his opinion that Piett always meant what he said about the boy. It was one of the things he liked about the man and also one of the reasons he had chosen him. He knew that Piett cared about his son and in some way, Luke cared back. This was good - it was a weakness with the boy that could be exploited if need be. But he was also completely confident that Piett would punish the child himself when he returned home. He was fair, but not necessarily easy on his son and that was exactly the way Vader liked it.  
  
Piett finished his shift for the day (they had been purposefully shortened by Vader to allow him to fulfil his 'other' duties) and returned home immediately. "Luke?" he called as he entered the living room. He heard a shuffling and then the boy appeared from his room, computer component in hand. "What?" he asked, with an air of bravado but not enough to hide the fear in his voice. "Come over here" was the sharp reply. Begrudgingly, he did as he was told. He stood slouched before Piett in the living room refusing to meet his gaze. Piett sighed, gruffly. "Luke, why do you insist on angering your father? You know what that leads to and I've taught you better." He waited for some kind of answer and the silence made Luke realise that one was expected.   
"I don't know," he said, awkwardly. " I just...didn't want to do what he was asking. It wasn't right." Piett knew what the boy was talking about and on one level he agreed with him, but this was not the time to be telling him that. He had to be strict - both their lives depended on it. "That's not my concern, Luke," he snapped, angrily. "I'm growing truly tired of having to tell you this." Luke glanced down again. Piett sighed. "You're restricted to quarters for a month, Luke." Luke opened his mouth to protest but Piett continued talking regardless. "Aside from anything your father might require of you, you will not leave these rooms. You can expect your vid-screen access to be cut off as well. Is this understood?"   
  
Luke folded his arms across his chest tightly and glared daggers at the man. "Do you think I might be able to use the canteen too?!" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Though Luke had stationed himself as far away from Piett as he had dared, his guardian now stepped across and roughly took a hold of the boy's arm. A look of alarm crossed his face and Luke considered trying to apologise. Not in time, however: Piett dealt him a sharp, stinging slap across one cheek and then an equally painful one across the other. After a few moments more in his grip, Piett released his arm and watched satisfied as Luke visibly backed down from his insolent stance. He said nothing, his face still burning from the blows. He should have known not to push - sometimes it was easy to forget with Piett. As he made the boy look directly at him, he was both dismayed and heartened to see him blinking back tears. Perhaps he was going to get through to Luke this time? He wondered. He certainly hoped so - he didn't know what Vader would do to the boy if he misbehaved on this mission.  
  
"You have a busy day tomorrow", Piett continued as if the incident were behind them. Despite his pain and anger, Luke looked up curiously. Piett explained, "Your father has requested that you join him in this navy trade dealings in Greco. I will expect impeccable behaviour from you or you can expect a hell of a lot worse than what you just got. Is that understood?" Luke nodded, irritated but subdued. The prospect of the venture was appealing, even if he didn't feel up to enthusing about it at that very moment. He hadn't been on a planet since his capture and he would dearly love some change of scenery and some fresh air for a change. Escape wasn't beyond his thoughts but he seriously didn't think he could manage it on his first venture out and with no knowledge of his surroundings. It wouldn't hurt him to do a little research on the computers anyway, he mused.   
  
"Right then," Piett said briskly, "to bed then. You'll need to be up early in the morning." Luke opened his mouth to protest but then quickly shut it again. He could see that it would do him little good and besides, he could tell this was still a part of his punishment. He did as he was told and ambled off to bed, secretly glad of the privacy it afforded him.   
  
True to his word it was five o'clock in the morning when Piett knocked on his door. "Luke? Luke? Wake up, you have to be ready on the launch in one hour. Breakfast is out here." Groggily, Luke swung his legs over his bed and stood up. Stretching the kinks out of his back and neck he wandered into the living room. Piett was sitting at the table, reading over another report. He glanced up when he saw his young charge enter. "Good morning," he greeted him, lightly.  
"Morning?" Luke repeated, unconvinced. "Are you sure it's not the middle of the night still?" Piett smiled. "I told you it would be an early start. Now come and have some breakfast - I imagine you'll need a lot of energy today." Luke moved over to the table and sank down into the opposite chair, taking a piece of toast and fruit as he did so. He didn't miss the scowl though he wished he could. The routine was getting a little boring. "Is that all you're going to have?" Piett asked in annoyance.  
"No", Luke replied carefully, "I'm going to have some coffee too." Piett 'tutted'.   
"It's going to be a long time before you eat again and you should have something more substantial than that," he said, pointedly. Luke sighed heavily in exasperation. "God, you sound like my aunt! Can you please stop fussing - this always does me fine."  
"With the amount of training your father puts you through?" Piett demanded incredulously.   
  
Luke snorted but said nothing, steadfastly eating his apple. He did make an attempt to change the subject though. "So what are we doing today?" Piett saw the question for what it was but just sighed once more and let it go. "You are accompanying your father on the naval arms negotiations."  
"Uh-huh. And why are they such big deals? Are these guys the best or just the only ones on the market?"  
"No," Piett remarked, "there's no supply monopoly at the moment. Greco just has the most advanced selection and the resources to supply to the Empire."  
"So in other words, if Greco gets this deal, then they become the monopoly in this system." Luke finished. Piett narrowed his eyes. "Most likely, yes."  
"So much for 'free enterprise'", Luke muttered into his breakfast. "Probably not even 'free labour'."  
"What was that?" Piett asked, looking up again from his reading.  
"I said, there's probably slave labour or at the very least, worker exploitation going on. And if there isn't now then there will be once demand picks up." Piett regarded him hardly for a moment.   
"If there is, Luke then it will of course be unfortunate, but you will not mention this again - least of all where your father may get wind of it." Luke muttered something else incomprehensible but when he glanced up, Piett was still staring at him obviously not willing to let it go until he got the answer he wanted. For the sake of peace, Luke begrudgingly relented. "I promise I won't mention it. Happy?"  
"As long as you mean it", came the even reply. "You have got to learn to control your impulses and to watch your mouth. It will only lead you into trouble."  
"What doesn't?" Luke retorted.  
"Luke," Piett warned.   
"Fine!" he exclaimed angrily, tossing his breakfast aside. Piett could see that the boy was clearly sulking and, though Vader would quickly snap him out of it if he turned up to the launch bay in that petulant mood, Piett thought it would be kinder all round if he could coax him out of it beforehand.   
  
"When you come back, if it's not too late, why don't you order that software I've seen you pining for these past weeks?" That was doing the trick. Luke was attempting to retain his earlier pessimism but the smile was creeping over his face regardless. "Really?" he asked, finally. Piett tried to stop himself from laughing at the boy's enthusiasm. "Really", he confirmed. "Now do eat up - you really haven't that much time left." His appetite restored, Luke picked up the piece of discarded fruit and resumed his breakfast. "Do you think I'll be allowed any free time down there?" he wondered out loud. Piett considered this for a moment. "Possibly. You'll have to ask your father - only be sure not to annoy him with insignificant conversations. You know how he can get sometimes." Luke rolled his eyes, "Don't I just!" The older man smiled at him, knowingly. "But I wouldn't want to go far," Luke continued, "just to the shops or arcades or something. Presuming this planet has anything other than naval bases."   
Piett narrowed his eyes slightly. "I don't know, Luke. He might consider the shops far enough on your first time out and unsupervised."  
  
"What do you mean? Aren't you coming too?" he asked.   
"No - not that I'm aware of", he answered as casually as possible. Truth be told, inwardly Piett loathed the decision to let Luke out without him. Vader had a quick temper and wasn't entirely used to dealing with the boy for anything longer than a couple of hours at a time. Nor was Luke used to an entire day alone with his father. Piett had serious doubts about the safety of the lad today, but there was nothing he could do about it. It tore him up, but if Lord Vader didn't want him there, then he would remain where he was stationed. Luke, too had realised the situation. He wanted Piett there: as hard on him as Piett could be sometimes, he looked out for him and took good care of him. He was a damned site easier to deal with than his father. He didn't know how to talk to the man without walking on some seriously fragile eggshells.   
"Oh," Luke said, by way of answer. "Not at all?" Piett shook his head.  
"Now you remember your promise to be on your best behaviour. I don't want to hear anything to the contrary when you get back." The young man nodded, doing his best to push his apprehension aside. "So I guess you'll have some peace and quiet today, huh?" he grinned.  
"Comparatively", Piett answered, wryly. They sat in silence for a moment as Luke finished up his breakfast. When he was done, Piett leant over and began to clear the table. "Right, you have half and hour to shower and change. You'll need to dress formally today." He paused briefly at the face Luke pulled and then continued as if it never happened, "I'll lay something out on your bed whilst you shower. Now get going." Luke sighed, heavily but made his way to the bathroom, resigned to his fate.  
  
The shower helped to wake him up a little and he was actually feeling quite vitalised by the time he emerged. True to his word, Piett had laid out a set of dark clothes - almost reminiscent of an imperial uniform: but not quite. He knew they wouldn't do that to him, not yet anyway. He dressed quickly and reappeared outside when he was ready. Piett nodded in approval. "Right then. It's Launch Bay 12. Do you know where that is?" Luke nodded. "Good. Off you go then and I'll see you when you get back." They both appeared a little uncertain but they both knew that these particular concerns would not be voiced. Luke turned and left his quarters without a word.   
  
When he arrived at the Launch Bay, he saw that his father was already there and waiting. Instinctively he glanced down at his watch. He wasn't late: he was still safe. He made his way briskly up the gang-plank of the ship. Vader had been discussing their flight plan with the pilot but he now dismissed the man, who returned to the cock-pit, and focused his attention on his son. Luke wasn't sure what to say. "Are we leaving right now?" he asked, feeling a little stupid.   
"We are", Vader confirmed. "Get on board and strap yourself in."   
  
Pleased to actually have something to do, Luke boarded the ship, Vader on his heels. Once they had both crossed the ship's threshold the plank retracted and the doors slid shut. Immediately Luke began to head for the cockpit, whilst Vader took a hold of his elbow and steered him to the back of the ship. "But can't I be in the cabin?" Luke asked. "I want to see how the ship is piloted."  
"The same as all the others, Luke." Vader replied firmly. "This is not part of the learning exercise - you will only be in the way. Now strap yourself in at the back and no more arguments." With one last look towards the cabin, Luke reluctantly followed his instructions.   
  
Once all were seated, the ship rose, the hanger doors opened and they left the confines of the ship for the endless expanse of space. Now that they were moving, Luke's excitement began to build. Vader sensed this easily through his link to the boy, and smiled to himself behind the safety of his mask. "Once we land, Luke", he began determined to keep his son on track, "we will be shown to the main reception area where a social gathering has been organised with the governors and traders. You will not leave my side during this time unless you have obtained my express permission. You will act with dignity and intelligence at all times," he instructed. Luke couldn't help the sliver of indignation he felt. As if he was going to act any other way? 'Well darn it' he thought, 'there goes the use of my bantha costume and dance number.' Vader heard it loud and clear. "I would hope so," he remarked carefully. He was pleased to see the look of surprise and momentary nervousness that crossed the boy's face. Keeping that edge of fear installed throughout this trip would be very useful.   
  
"So, er...when do the negotiations begin?" he asked, trying hard to smooth over his embarrassment. Vader let it go: he was feeling relatively kind that morning. "After the reception we will undergo a tour of the planet's naval facilities. If all is satisfactory, negotiations will begin immediately afterwards in the Council Chambers."  
"Uh-huh - and how long do you think it will last - the negotiations, that is?"  
"They should be short," Vader replied. Luke chose not to read any other kind of meaning into that. Short, but peaceful was how he was looking at it.   
  
Deciding that it couldn't hurt to test the waters at this stage, Luke pressed on with his agenda: "And you'll need me with you during all of this, then?" If Vader's mask could have read 'suspicious' then that was what Luke was seeing right then. "The point of this excursion," Vader said, slowly and emphatically, "is for you to learn by example. You must also become used to the attention and responsibilities of being the son of a Sith Lord." Luke couldn't hide the wince though he did his best. His parentage, he could handle - alone: making it such public knowledge was a different matter. How would they expect him to react? Would they think that he would crush people's windpipes too if he didn't agree with them? How would the people on this planet react to him? These were only a few of the questions and worries that dogged the boy but he dared not raise them with his father. As for the reasons why not, well Luke knew it was fear of making the Dark Lord angry, but he was increasingly finding that a part of him simply did not want to hurt this man: his father. Vader sensed his son's unease. "What is it?" he enquired.   
"Nothing!" Luke assured him hastily.  
"Luke," Vader warned him in a low voice, "I will not be lied to. If I chose to, I could probe your thoughts."   
  
Immediately he felt the boy's mental defences shoot up in indignation. He smiled to himself: the shields were nowhere near powerful enough to keep him out but he was pleased that the lad was learning. Outwardly however, he could not be seen to be tolerating his son's defensiveness. Keeping secrets from those around him was acceptable for the boy, sometimes essential - but he must have access to every part of his son's life and Luke must learn to understand that nothing about his life was automatically private: not from Vader. "Drop your shields, child," Vader warned tightly. The swell of anger that surged through Luke, constricting his chest also prevented him from responding. It may only be trivial thoughts he was protecting but damn it - they were his thoughts and his father had no right to go poking around in there! "Child!" Vader growled again in warning. This really was intolerable: he would not break them down - that wasn't the point - the boy had to submit. Fear began to permeate the anger creating a reaction more miserable than volatile but still, Luke would not back down. He knew what he was doing and he knew Piett wouldn't be too happy about it, either: most importantly however, he also didn't care. "Get out of my head!" Luke snapped never quite daring to take his eyes off the man seated opposite him from the table.   
  
Enough was enough: Vader leant forward in his chair and delivered his son a sharp, painful slap that whipped his head to the side. The shields fell immediately, but whether that was because the boy's concentration had been shattered or if he had actually backed down, Vader didn't know. His son's eyes were brimming with unshed tears however - not at the pain, Vader knew, but at the battle he had lost. The boy still had pride: one day it could be his undoing, he mused. For now though, Vader was content that he had won this round - his son looked away again and refused to meet his gaze. He would do so if Vader commanded it though - of that the Lord was sure. "I shall ask you again Luke", Vader continued carefully, "what was on your mind?" Luke knew better than to lie or resist - the time for that would come later. "I was only wondering...I mean I didn't know, how to act - what I would be expected to do...as your son." He spoke quietly, respectfully but with just a tinge of anger remaining in his voice. "Is that all?" Vader asked, daring his son to deceive. His hesitation to voice the remaining fear was obvious to Vader. It therefore pleased him when the boy pressed on with it regardless. "I was afraid you would want me to act...differently." he explained carefully. Vader understood: he felt he should even have expected it and would have if he'd been paying the boy more attention recently. "As long as you remain sensible and civil, that is all I expect of you. Your mannerisms are your own - for now, they will not have to change." Luke could see the impending threat, but relief for his present situation overwhelmed his senses for the time being. He released a somewhat shaky breath. "Thank-you, Father," he said quietly.   
On the other side of the table, Vader rose and crossed to leave the room. "Remain here", he instructed. Luke nodded silently. "Luke, this has not been a good beginning - pray this day does not continue as such."   
'Not a good beginning?' Luke thought as he watched his father leave the room and head towards the cabin, 'that's the first thing today that I'd have to agree with you on.'   
  
***  
  
TBC. Any comments or constructive criticisms will be gladly received. Thank-you for reading!  



	2. Chapter 2

  
Ad Noctem - Part 2  
Many thanks to those who have been kind enough to review my humble offerings thus far! They have been most encouraging :)  
  
NOTE: I know nothing much actually happens in this chapter, but it has been sitting on my hard drive for a very long time and (as I STILL haven't got to the place I wanted to be before I posted again) I thought I would go ahead and put this up in the interim! I am working on more but it's taking a long time due to a mass of other projects! Thank-you for bearing with me!  
  
Standard disclaimer applies - please see part one for full version.  
  
  
A little under an hour saw the landing on the Planet Damone, Greco section. As soon as they were safely landed, Luke jumped from his seat, eager to be off-board and exploring the planet - even on Tattooine, he had not been an experienced space traveller so this experience was still a relative novelty to him. He felt, however, a restraining hand on his arm and looked up to see Vader holding him back. He gave his father a questioning and slightly impatient look. "What?" he asked.  
"Allow the guards to disembark first, Luke," he explained trying hard not to sound as though he were explaining something to a particularly dense child. After all, he reminded himself, travelling in the Imperial entourage was still new to his son. "When they have ascertained that all is well, we shall follow."  
"Oh - right," Luke agreed, not especially caring for Imperial hierarchy. He supposed it was something that he was going to have to get used to liking, or at the very least, understanding.   
  
The plank extended and the guards descended in a sombre yet powerful statement. There was only a few seconds pause before Vader indicated to Luke that they should follow on behind. 'Not enough time', Luke thought, 'to check for any dangers - these guys just really do love to show off.' As Vader strode down the ramp and onto the launch pad, complete with equally serious looking welcoming committee, Luke casually trailed behind the imposing form of his father, not especially caring what image he was portraying. He didn't even hide the slight hang of his jaw as his face saw and felt real sunlight for the first time in months, or felt an actual breeze ruffle his hair and clothing. The breeze felt unusual, not like the ones on Tattooine: it was slightly cooler and fresher, with a lot more moisture. He barely even glanced at the assembled crowd - he was too immersed in their planet. His mind was already leaping ahead to when those wretched negotiations would be over and how he might then persuade his father to let him have more time down here.   
  
His father, as it happens, was what his attention was promptly focused on next. Through their internal link, Vader sent a sudden but subtle jolt to his son - enough to startle him out of his thoughts and actually take in the scene around him. When he did, Luke saw that a pause had taken place in whatever script the committee of Greco was reciting, and Luke was obviously expected to be doing something. What it was, he couldn't tell but seeing as how he hadn't moved from the middle of the ramp and everyone else, including his father was waiting at the bottom, Luke considered moving to be a pretty good start.   
  
As it turned out, it was a good enough guess. Vader indicated him with one hand as he spoke to a richly decorated man (presumably the Governor of Greco). "I present my son, Luke Skywalker, Prince of the Sith". The man bowed slightly at the waist, "Prince Skywalker", he said in greeting. A moment of panic overcame Luke for a moment: what the hell was this guy's name? Hesitantly he returned the half bow. His father's voice sounded in his head, 'Governor Mattker - and pay attention!'   
"Governor Mattker", Luke thankfully returned.   
  
"It is truly an honour to receive you both," Mattker assured them, smoothly. "A reception has been arranged in the Grand Hall - if you would be so kind as to follow me?" Vader nodded.  
"By all means proceed, Governor Mattker."   
  
  
They were led by the extravagant procession, along green-leafed out-door walk-ways where curious crowds of on-lookers had gathered to watch the event, through a set of towering glass gates set into a high wall that seemed to encircle a large palace. The gates led onto an impressive courtyard, with an intricate system of crossing paths, looping round a luscious central garden. Luke spotted species of plant growing there that he had only heard about - not that he considered himself a horticulturist but his own planet had offered so little variety in vegetation that he always noted any differences when he found them.   
  
Behind the courtyard stood a majestic-looking building of blue-brick. Its solid walls curved up to a domed roof and two, looming spirlet windows enriched with patterned glass dominated the front wall. The heavy double entrance doors opened as they approached and Luke could see a throng of people already waiting inside. All of them no doubt hoping to win this coveted prize for themselves and for their planet.   
  
The room they emerged into was, Luke surmised, the Grand Hall. White and gold clothed tables lined the walls, complete with drinks and food - more for show it seemed than consumption. Mingling seemed to be the activity of the morning. Luke sighed (quietly albeit) - he was never any good at mingling. He glanced up at his father who was responding to all of the questions and comments put his way by the crowd around him. It was most likely going to be Vader who would have to do all the talking, so Luke decided that he would let his father deal with it and not worry himself unless he really had to. There were a set of chairs on the raised podium at the end of the hall which they appeared to be heading towards.   
  
'Great,' Luke thought glumly, 'just what I was hoping for - part of an Imperial showcase.' There was no way he could go low profile now - everyone in the room would know who he was. For the first time that he could remember, Luke actually hoped that everyone around him was Imperial-friendly: the last thing he wanted was a stray laser-bolt to the head. He was suddenly very glad for the presence of the guards that he had practically scorned earlier that morning.   
Another mental nudge caused Luke to quicken his pace a little and focus his attention on the situation at hand. Vader could sense when his mind strayed and Luke sincerely hoped it was a habit his father would quickly learn to forget - it really was quite irksome at times.  
  
Luke and his father ascended the podium and seated themselves on the formal chairs whilst a collection of official speeches was delivered. A sea of eyes upon him, scrutinising him, Luke suddenly didn't know how Leia did it on a regular basis - how she could cope with all that attention and focus: of people forming judgements about her based purely on speculation. It wasn't something Luke thought that he would ever become accustomed to.   
  
The speeches droned on for about half an hour, during which time, Luke fought the last remnants of early-morning tiredness and successfully stifled two yawns and the almost overwhelming urge to shut his eyes. Vader would not have been too happy if that urge had got the better of him he mused. At last the speeches ended, some sort of national anthem was played and then Vader and the Greco committee rose. Luke hastily did the same.   
  
They descended onto the main floor whilst the band kept up with a gentle melodic tune in the background. A sudden thought struck Luke: there wasn't going to be any dancing, was there? Because he was perhaps the worst dancer he knew of: not that he probably couldn't learn, but there had been no call for it in his life thus far. As discreetly as possible he leaned into his father.  
  
"Father?" he asked, quietly.  
"Yes, Luke?" Vader answered, in the same tone.  
"Um, what exactly happens now?"  
"We talk," Vader answered succinctly.   
"But that's it right? I mean..."  
"Luke, it is background music only - I would appreciate it if you would not appear panicked at the Reception: we are trying to present a certain image here." Though he couldn't be sure, Luke almost thought he heard a hint of humour in his father's mechanical voice. Had he been hearing it more recently? He tried to think - perhaps he was just wishing it so? Thinking was not safe however - not with Vader nearby: Luke was learning that quickly and so turned his thoughts back to the Reception.   
  
A succession of introductions and conversations followed suit. One hopeful trader and manufacturer followed another. Vader spoke briefly with some and in more depth with others but by the time they had greeted the fifteenth interested party, Luke was beginning to think 'Hello' to be one word too many.   
  
Thankfully, Luke considered, he was not expected to contribute anything other than formal greetings to the discussions. It did make his presence there rather pointless though - surely he had learned enough about political and economical banter by now? Not only that, but several high-ranking officials had expressed an unwelcome interest in their teenaged daughters meeting with the heir to the Sith.   
  
Luke had simply shuffled a little awkwardly on his feet when this embarrassing topic kept resurfacing, giving no other response to the scheming prospective father-in-laws than a tight smile. All the while however, he was quietly seething that Vader was making no attempts himself to dissuade these men from their delusions. He certainly hoped that they were delusions! It was actually a rather frightening prospect that he hadn't considered before - but had Vader? That was the question. Not good thoughts, he reminded himself firmly - best not to give his father any more ideas than necessary.   
  
In any event, pending nuptials aside, Luke honestly needed a break from all this. He waited patiently whilst Vader finished up his current conversation and they had moved off to the side of the room.   
"Father?"  
"Yes?"  
"Could I please take a break? I just need some fresh air. It's so stuffy in here." Vader considered the request. His son had been behaving quite well so far and had probably picked up as much from the Reception as he was likely to. Outside, however - should he really let the boy wander out of his sight? What if he were to try anything foolish? Or perhaps worse still, what if something were to happen to him without Vader there to protect him? There were certainly enough people in this room willing to accept Imperial rule for their own profits, but could he be so sure of the motives of the whole planet? However, he was aware that he shouldn't smother the boy - that never did anyone any good.   
  
"Very well, Luke. You may step outside - briefly!" he warned, sternly. "If I should call you, you are to respond immediately - is that absolutely clear?" Luke nodded eagerly. "Perfectly!" he assured his father. He waited anxiously for a moment more to see if Vader looked like he would change his mind. After a moment longer however, Vader nodded indicating that Luke should proceed.  
  
He didn't waste any time. He had seen the nearest exit, on the side wall to the left of them - had been eyeing it for some time. Now he made straight for it, as orderly as possible, continuing to smile as politely as possible to all the passing dignitaries that he almost collided with on his way.   
  
A large, burly man in his mid fifties blocked his path momentarily at the entrance. He was obviously late to the gathering as he was in a foul mood and somewhat out of breath. Not knowing who Luke was, he muttered just over his breath about young people watching where they were going and something else that Luke chose to ignore. Behind the man, trailed a short, stocky lad in his early twenties ambling behind in a far more casual manner. His dark eyes and hair were set off in an almost startling contrast to his extremely pale skin - though he had never encountered this people before, Luke was almost certain that the paleness was not natural to the complexion. "Come on!" the man snapped to his companion who duly put a bit more life in his step.   
  
Luke followed them with his eyes briefly as they hurried inside. The man took a few moments to compose himself before he obviously spotted Vader and began to head straight for him. His younger associate however, hung back, hugging the wall. Luke knew exactly how he felt and only wished that he were allowed to do the same.   
"My Lord Vader," he heard the man say in greeting to his father who turned to regard him with the faintest interest. "Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Mako K'Tallai, manager of the largest naval arms base in Greco - it is an honour that you have chosen to view the merchandise our humble planet has to offer the Empire."  
  
"Mr. K'Tallai," Vader replied evenly, "The Empire is also pleased with the prospect of dealings with Greco - however your claims of supremacy in this matter have been made many times this day already. Can you enhance what you say in any way?" K'Tallai smiled a big, fat grin.   
"Of course, Lord Vader - I would offer nothing less." Turning slightly on the spot, Luke instantly recognised the annoyance on his face - something wasn't going according to whatever sales plan he had mapped out in his mind.   
"Hamin!" he whispered harshly to the youth by the wall. Hamin glanced up at him and made towards him in a start. Turning a slightly embarrassed and apologetic smile on Vader, K'Tallai swept up the data-pad that Hamin offered him and continued his dialogue with Vader, presumably dismissing Hamin without another word. Not that the young man appeared to see anything wrong with that and happily trotted back to his place by the wall as K'Tallai resumed his pitch. "As you can see, My Lord, our resources are vast and no other company invests as much capital in quality and speed of services than the K'Tallai Corporation..."   
  
Luke tuned him out - he'd been hearing that line all morning and he'd escaped out here to get away from that.  
  
He wandered to the edge of the courtyard and leant against the trunk of a tall, leafy tree glad of the cool shade it afforded him. Casting a quick glance back towards the open set of side doors to the Grand Hall, Luke took care to make sure he was within calling distance and sight if need be, though he suspected that Vader would do nothing so distasteful as to yell across a crowded room to get his attention. More than likely he would use the mental link, he guessed.   
  
The sun was becoming quite intense even in the shade and as a result, Luke found himself leaning a little heavier into the tree. 'Would anyone really notice if I just stretched out on the grass?' he wondered to himself. 'Probably', was his own answer. Luke settled for resting his eyes, allowing his mind to drift away from the mundane political hustling and dealing.  
  
A sudden noise alerted him to someone nearby. Opening his eyes and looking around sharply, his gaze rested on a figure alternating his weight from foot to foot in the baking sun. He seemed to be standing quite uncomfortably, his arms (slightly too long for his stocky body) wrapped around his waist. In fact, his entire body seemed almost comically out of proportion with itself, Luke mused. The young man glanced up from the ground and Luke got a good look at his face: it was the assistant of the man who had just approached his father in the Hall. Luke took a quick look around himself: this was the nearest shade about. Knowing he really should be gracious and offer him some help, Luke called out: "You know you might want to get out of the sun. I used to live in a desert - the heat can hit you pretty hard and fast sometimes. I reckon this tree's probably big enough if you wanted."   
  
The man looked up at him, at first uneasy at the contact with a stranger but eventually breaking out into an awkward but grateful smile.   
"Thanks," he said appreciatively as he moved to stand under the boughs. "The Water Regions are usually alright but sometimes we get a blast of the Desert Region directly downwind," he explained. "It can make things a little unbearable for a while. Not for that long mind you, but I was never very good with the sun." He trailed off, suddenly a little embarrassed for his impromptu weather report. Luke didn't mind though - it made a welcome change from that day's usual topics of conversation. He studied his new companion a little more closely now: he had noticed at first sight that the youth had been extremely pale, but now that he was up close, Luke could also see the slight squint of the eyes that he was obviously trying to overcome.   
  
"I'm taking a guess here," Luke began, "but it seems that you don't see enough sun to get used to it." For a moment, the young man became increasingly uncomfortable and Luke was afraid that he'd unintentionally offended him. However, he soon shook whatever discomforts he had, off. "I don't get out much," he replied lightly.  
"I know the feeling!" Luke returned. "I'm Luke, by the way."  
"Hamin", the man offered in turn.   
  
A brief and slightly awkward silence ensued, both thinking whether to end the conversation there or to make something more out of it. Luke was aware that he could and probably would be called away at any moment and there was something holding Hamin back as well, though Luke couldn't tell what. Eventually however, Luke decided that even if he had to spend the rest of the day talking naval negotiations and politics, he would at least enjoy one good conversation: something about Hamin told him that they would get on well together.   
  
"So you and your partner are trying for this contract as well?" Luke asked politely. Hamin let out a sharp, derisive breath. "Hardly!" he retorted. Luke looked at him, puzzled: "but I thought I saw you two in the Hall..." he began, but Hamin cut in in explanation:   
  
"He's my boss, not partner - to be honest, I really couldn't care about this deal. I don't really have much to say on the topic either."  
"Suits me fine", Luke replied, happily, "I came out here to get away from it myself."  
  
"So what are you doing here?" Hamin asked. "You don't really look like a business man - if you don't mind me saying."  
  
Luke smiled and shook his head, "Believe me, I don't mind in the least. I'm just...here with my father. He's the businessman - well, sort of. He's got a variety of roles, really. I'm just supposed to kind of watch and learn - you know?" It was nine tenths of the truth. Somehow he didn't feel up to revealing his identity to his new friend - Luke just wasn't ready for that yet.   
  
Hamin nodded, knowingly: "Uh huh. Take over the family business deal, right?"   
Luke smiled, weakly an uneasy feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. "Right," he agreed.   
  
Immediately, Hamin picked up on his discomfort. "I take it that's not exactly what you want out of life?"  
"Not really," Luke admitted, "and a choice would be nice," he muttered under his breath.   
"Well you got my sympathy, friend!" Hamin exclaimed cheerfully. "This place" he said, indicating the Grand Hall with a hand gesture, "it could send you to sleep in there. Either that, or raving mad. Anything but here, right?"  
"Right! So what exactly do you do around here to relax?" Luke asked. It could have been his imagination, but he thought he saw Hamin recoil a little at the question, pinching his facial features ever so slightly in an expression of agitation.   
"Oh, you know - this and that: sports mostly but I'm no good at them really."   
  
Luke was surprised at that last statement: Hamin was well-built and muscular - more so than he was. It seemed as if he should excel at physical activities. He was about to comment on it, when he noticed that this time, it was Hamin who was wishing the present line of discussion be dropped. Though not understanding why (and Luke pretty much hated to leave anything alone that he didn't have a satisfactory answer to), he obligingly let the subject fall.  
  
"So..." he began to say, but stopped abruptly as a voice sounded in his head. Hamin looked at him, curiously.   
"So - what?" he asked.   
  
Luke didn't answer him for a moment but instead concentrated on his father's voice. His previous warning to respond immediately was still fresh in his mind. 'Luke,' Vader sent, 'return immediately, you have had long enough.'   
'Coming, Father,' he sent back. Then he looked up at Hamin and immediately registered his last question.  
  
"Uh, nothing. My father wants me back in the Hall - I'm sorry but I have to go now."  
  
Hamin looked around, puzzled, half expecting to see a man standing right behind them that he had simply not noticed all this time. "Your father?" he repeated. "Where?"  
"In the Hall. I, er - I heard him calling."  
  
Hamin whistled: "Man, you must have great hearing - I swear I never heard a thing and I'm usually pretty good myself."  
Luke smiled at him a little awkwardly, "Yeah, well - it sorta runs in the family. Listen it was great meeting you but I gotta run now. Maybe I'll catch up with you later today? I might get some free time this afternoon."  
  
"Yeah, maybe," Hamin agreed though it was obvious that he was as doubtful as Luke was. With a quick wave, Luke turned and darted back inside the Hall, where Vader was waiting for him, expectantly.  
  
***  
  
On board the ship, Piett carried out his duties of the morning quickly and efficiently. He had to admit, without Luke to check on during the day, he had a lot more time to devote to his duties, and to free time for himself. It was something he saw precious little of these days.   
  
His supervision of the Bridge shift came to an end and, when his replacement had arrived, he strode off the Bridge and made his way back to his quarters. He had some paperwork to do, and though he had an office, he had become accustomed to working from home now.   
  
'So far, so good', he dared to think to himself as he walked, briskly along the corridor. There had been no distress calls, from either government officials or father and son to complain that Luke was wreaking merry havoc among them. In fact, all reports indicated that everything was running smoothly and according to schedule. Most importantly however, Piett had heard of no medics being called to the Imperial party and so, hopefully, Luke was uninjured and had succeeded in not provoking his father thus far. He could only pray that it remained that way.  
  
With Luke, though, Piett couldn't shake the feeling that this was merely the calm before the storm and something unwanted was brewing in the background. He shook his head to clear it: this was not his problem today - Luke was entirely in Vader's hands so let the Dark Lord deal with it. He might even give him a pay rise once he realised what bloody hard work it actually was, to deal with that boy day in, day out, Piett mused hopefully.  
  
***  
  
TBC. Any comments or constructive criticisms will be gladly received. Thank-you for reading!  
  



	3. Chapter 3

AD NOCTEM - Chapter 3  
By Polly   
Standard disclaimer applies - please see part one for full version in all it's many-splendoured glory.  
  
Note: Thank-you to everyone who has reviewed and been so encouraging. I'm sorry for the enormous gap between parts, but I've been on a pretty intensive course that allows for no creative writing time. Now, however, with Christmas approaching and my university term drawing to a close, I can put away my essays and assignments and concentrate on more fruitful labours! Thank-you all again and please feel free to tell me what you think. Oh, and should mention for further on in the story - I know nothing about cars, engines or machinery of any sort. Any mistakes, inaccuracies or simply things that make you go 'huh?', are entirely of my doing.  
  
Ad Noctem, Part 3  
  
"So, Luke - review what you have learned so far." They were moving steadily along one of the covered walkways laid out for them and on their way to the inspection of the major dockyards. Reigning his thoughts back away from the weather, the man at the reception and his growing hunger, Luke successfully suppressed the tempting groan and instead, struggled to order his answer.  
  
"Uh...well eh, the Governor's name is Matkar. And...well we don't have to dance if we don't want to at receptions, and uh..."  
  
Vader would have been angry with him for insolence, had he not known that this was in most honesty, the best the boy could remember. In fact, if honesty were the issue in this circumstance then he would even admit to himself that this was probably the most forgettable negotiations he had ever been on himself.   
Next to him, his son was desperately struggling to continue:  
  
"...and uh, we don't believe all the traders at face value and..."  
  
"Enough, Luke," Vader interrupted. "The main activities will take place at the formal Council Meeting and at our inspection - be sure to take particular note on these occasions."  
Luke breathed an audible sigh of relief, causing the edges of Vader's mouth to twitch up slightly in amusement. There were times when he dearly wished he could show the same amount of interest as his son did. But then, his son didn't have an Empire to run: yet.  
  
'These walkways are endless,' Luke thought to himself as they trundled along, their entire entourage of Imperial soldiers behind them. 'Do they run throughout the entire city?' he wondered. Ahead of him, he could sense a commotion. He tried to focus in on that feeling, like his father had been teaching him, evaluating what it could be. It didn't to be like danger - it felt lighter than that - more like...excitement: yes, intense excitement with a healthy dose of nerves to boot.   
  
"There's something happening up ahead," he quietly mentioned to his father. Not that Vader wouldn't know already of course - what Luke could sense, he was sure was ancient history to that man.   
  
"Yes," Vader answered, very pleased with the lad's progress. "What do you think it is, Luke?" he asked, always testing - tests could never end or his wits would dull. Luke gave a small shrug.  
  
"I'm not sure, but everyone's very excited."  
  
"Are they happy?" Vader probed. Luke thought about it for a moment.  
  
"No, not exactly happy - it's more like...trepidation. But the good kind."  
  
Vader nodded, satisfied with his son's as yet rather rudimentary understanding of his senses - but there was obvious sign of growth and the potential for further improvement there, he noted.  
  
As they grew closer, Luke could see that the walkway ended at this particular section and instead veered an arc around it. He was disappointed - he had wanted to explore this excitement personally. It looked to be a large dirt space, filled with crowds and workers. It was shaped in a kind of oval, and Luke could see lines worn round in rings around the oval. He knew at once what it was: a race track.  
  
"Father? Do we have time to take a look over there?" he asked, trying not to sound pleading. Vader glanced down at his son. The truth was that they have time. He had purposefully cut short their appointed time at the Reception due to its lack of productivity. That, and his son and heir was physically falling asleep on him.  
  
But, did he want to distract Luke any further? That was the question.  
  
"Just one quick look?" Luke was reasoning, "and then we could be on our way again." Vader sighed.   
  
"Very briefly, Luke and only because I wish to discuss the possibility of upgrading the engines on our small shuttle designs. Grecan engineers are rumoured to be among the best in the galaxy."  
  
Luke hid his grin. "Yes, father."  
  
His pace quickened, Luke trotted over to the dusty ring, Vader easily keeping step.  
  
The crowed parted slightly as they crossed the dusty space. Luke still wasn't sure if he liked this treatment. His doubts faded as the smell of the engine grease grew stronger. One of the machines shot past on the circuit, whipping up the wind around his feet. He felt himself cracking in to a grin as the noises seeped into his bloodstream.   
  
A racer stood empty by the side of the track, a crowd of mechanics and pilots in jump suits surrounding it. Luke had no trouble pushing his way to the front of the crowd unnoticed - except by Vader, who frowned slightly under his mask. The closer they got to the racers, the worse the feeling inside him became. Something was stirring in side of him, settling badly in the pit of his stomach. His son ran his hands lovingly over the smooth surface of the machine's casing, his fingers gently tracing all the little nooks and dents received no doubt during countless break-neck races. The myriad of senses and memories from Beggar's Canyon came flooding into his nervous system. The rush, the adrenaline, the skills - they coursed through his blood now like a kind of drug.   
  
He glanced up, suddenly aware that he was not the only person standing by the racer. The mechanics were looking at him, curiously and with a hint of amusement in their eyes. Luke grinned a little sheepishly, "I've never seen one like this before," he said, by way of explanation.  
"No doubt," one of them replied, "this here's an experimental model - designed by our own engineers."  
"Is it racing today?"  
"Sure is - just as soon as we can fix the thrusters. They've been a little jumpy lately - K'Hairn can't seem to figure out why." Luke glanced over at the mechanic who was obviously K'Hairn, running an oily hand absently through his hair and intently studying the racer's schematics. Luke returned his attention to the machine. He knew a little about engines and thrusters. Well, actually he knew a lot - had done ever since he could remember being old enough to peer inside the casing of his uncle's old speeder. His abilities had only increased since his introduction to the Force. He moved round to the back of the vehicle and leaned in to take a look at the thrusters in question. Immediately, he could see why the mechanics were puzzled - nothing appeared out of place at all. Everything seemed to be in working order. But Luke could see otherwise - could detect the problem deep within the apparatus of the twisted metal tubing and pipes. A loose valve, deep inside and blocking the power flow - it was as simple as that. "May I?" he asked, carefully. They gave him an odd glance and a couple exchanged sceptical looks but they nodded nonetheless - not like the kid could make it any worse. Rolling up his sleeves, Luke picked up a hydro-spanner and went to work, reaching in and letting his senses guide him to the problem. The others looked on with rising curiosity. A few moments later, Luke retracted his arm (now nicely covered in oil - his father and Piett would just love that) and gave the mechanics a nod. "Try it now."  
One of them flicked the starter switch on the panel and a surprised shout went up from all as the engines roared to life, the thrusters working perfectly. Luke couldn't hide the satisfied grin that spread across his face.   
  
Vader, meanwhile, had allowed his attention to drift away from his son. As soon as they had approached, official representatives of the race had rushed to greet him and tend to his wishes. As he explained about his interest in upgrading the Empire's shuttles, images sliced through his mind, unbidden: crowds, cheering, the smell of burnt fuel. Behind his mask, his expression faltered for a moment. Though he could not place the images, they were extremely potent - if he didn't know any better, he might call them visions. But he had never experienced visions quite like this - they were so real, so vibrant. And in any event, whose images was he sensing?   
  
As Vader stared ahead at the Chief Engineer before him, his surroundings shifted with a stirring haze. Now, standing before him was a different figure: a small child - a boy, dusted and worn by the desert's sun, wearing a pair of goggles and a helmet so large that they almost obscured his face entirely. The boy wasn't looking at him - he was staring ahead to something standing off to his left. Vader followed the boy's gaze and saw that it came to land on a curiously shaped vehicle - the pilot's compartment was nothing more than an encased seat and control panel. The bulk of the ship consisted of two huge engines that boxed the driver's compartment in on either side. A huge cheer surged from the crowd as the child moved off towards the pods and leaped inside with the grace and agility of a cat. A part of Vader wondered at how this tiny child was ever meant to power such a machine, but a feeling inside, told him instinctively, that this child would be able to withstand anything. The landscape widened and Vader silently took in the vast racing arena - thousands of beings crammed in, waiting for the spectacle to begin.   
An announcement echoed throughout the space: "Just about to enter his pod now, young human, Anakin Skywalker! He survived his last race in tact - even if his pod didn't. Will he do any better today?"   
  
The child seemed to turn and look directly at him. Vader inhaled, sharply. Suddenly, the vision began to slip away and the present scene began to encroach into view. But now, something had taken the place of those long forgotten images - words, names, feelings: who he once was. Anakin Skywalker - son, pilot, friend - weak. With a surge of anger, Vader pushed the memories aside. Whoever that child was, he was several lifetimes removed from ever having been him. The past was well and truly in the past.   
  
"Lord Vader?" He looked sharply at the man who had just spoken. The man recoiled slightly but held his ground well, considering.   
"Yes, Engineer?"  
"Are the proposals to your liking?" The man took a tentative step forwards and offered out a datapad. Vader accepted it curtly and glanced over it. The readouts were practically meaningless to him. "I shall review them in detail and give you an answer then," he answered. "We are scheduled to meet with the Council now but I shall give you my opinion by the end of the day." The man nodded, uncertainly. "As you wish, My Lord."  
  
Now that his attention was firmly rooted back in the present, Vader felt a sudden impulse to locate his son. Glancing back at where he had last left the boy, he felt a momentary rush of panic when he realised his child was no longer there. If the guards had allowed him to wander off, he would personally execute each and every one of them. However, a quick scan of the area revealed his son, standing with a group of mechanics, only yards away from where he had last left him. His breath almost caught when he saw what the boy was standing next to - a racer, gleaming in the sun, beckoning to a Skywalker to fill it. Uneasiness gripped his heart as he watched Luke slide easily in to the cockpit, running his hands over the ship's controls.   
  
It seemed like only one stride before he had closed the gap between himself and his son. "Luke, get out!" he snapped. Luke's head shot up at the sound of his father's voice. "Father," he began, "I wasn't going to start it up, I was just getting a feel for it...". Vader cut him off. He reached in to the cockpit and grabbed a hold of the boy's arm, physically lifting and dragging him out of the ship until Luke was stumbling to regain his footing on the ground. "We are leaving , Luke," Vader emphasised.   
Meanwhile, the group of mechanics had taken a good few hasty steps backwards. The son of Vader?! That's who they had fixing their ship for them? And the Dark Lord certainly didn't appear too happy about something. Perhaps it was best for them to leave some tactful space between themselves and the Sith Lord.   
  
Luke could not understand what had come over his father. It reminded him of the sudden rages Owen would fly in to sometimes - it always seemed to involve Luke somehow though he could never figure it out, nor was it ever explained. His father had released his arm and Luke kept a close hold of it in the place where Vader had grabbed him. His right forearm was still throbbing. Vader, for his part, was forcing himself to calm down. Now that the boy was away from the ship, the danger seemed to fade into the background more and more. They were walking side by side, away from the tracks and headed back towards the covered walkways that would lead them to the Council Chambers. Luke had mumbled an apology as soon as Vader had dragged him out, though he had had little idea for he was apologising. Now Vader began to sense this - to feel his son's confusion at his reaction. Images of that hateful Owen Lars came reeling off the boy's mind as his son relieved similar memories of unwarranted persecution. He barely recognised the stab of guilt as it hit him. Something else suddenly came to his attention as well - it was not simply hurt confusion that he was feeling from his son, but a much more intense sensation - pain. Glancing more closely at the boy, he noted how he still kept his forearm surreptitiously cradled in his left hand. Willing himself not to direct his anger at the boy, Vader held a hand in front of Luke and slowed them both to a halt.   
  
Immediately, Luke's gaze met Vader's, panic swimming beneath the surface. "Let me see your arm, Luke," Vader insisted, surprised by how gentle the request had sounded. Luke knew better than to deny his father, especially considering his recent mood and so tentatively, he released his hold on his arm and awkwardly offered it as best he could, to his father. Vader's hand hovered fractionally above the surface of the arm, and he closed his eyes momentarily, sensing where the damage lay. "I think it's nothing," Luke was insisting, "it's just a bit bruised - really." Presently, Vader opened his eyes again. "It is fractured but the damage can be repaired." Luke nodded, wordlessly, unsure of what to say. "There is a medical area this way - come with me." Luke followed as Vader led them to hospital wing used by the racers. As the guards made to follow them, a sign from Vader made them keep their distance. Inside, the unwelcome sensation of guilt was still stirring in Vader. It was so easy to forget himself when he was around the boy and Luke was so frequently the cause of such...volatile emotions, whether he realised it or not. He had not meant to hurt the boy, though - not for that. He had simply wanted to take him away. And now he had broken his son's arm and the boy was too wary of him to even him about it. How long, he wondered would Luke have allowed himself to go before he sought medical attention, or at the very least, some pain control? He felt momentarily proud of his son's stoicism.   
  
Luke had expected to be handed over to a medical droid as soon as they arrived and so it was with great surprise that it was Vader who dismissed the staff, picked up the instruments, and set to work himself. With the added aid of the Force, it was in almost no time at all, that Luke felt the pain leave his arm and the bone gently and warmly mend itself. He flexed his arm, experimentally. "It feels fine", he assured his father, though he couldn't keep the wonder out of his voice. He was used to bacta working fast but this was something else entirely - even bacta-treatment required time to heal. Other than a residual tingle, his arm felt as good as new. "How did you? Was that the Force?" he asked. Vader nodded. "Some day, you will learn to do the same." Luke could scarcely imagine it but he decided to take his father's word on it. "I'm able to carry on now, Father."   
Vader was on the verge of assenting and moving them swiftly away, when he found himself shocking the pair of them with his next words. "You may as well test that arm out while you are here - I am sure you could handle one of those racers, could you not?" Luke's bottom jaw almost hit the floor. "Uh...yes...I'm sure I could," he stuttered. "Do you mean I can race?"  
"No!" Vader answered immediately, "but", he continued, more gently, "I am there would be time enough for a few laps before the race began." The look of excitement that lit his son's face was enough to ease that irksome sensation of guilt within Vader's chest. Luke could barely stop himself from outright hugging his father. Instead, he settled for a, "Thank-you so much! You won't regret this, I promise!" before darting out of the tent and back towards the racetrack. Vader sat in his wake, contemplating just what in the Sith had just come over him.   
  
As Luke re-emerged into the sun, cooled gently by the nearby sea breeze, he looked around for the group of mechanics he had been working with. He spotted them quickly, back over by the racer and ran over to them. They looked up in surprise and alarm when they saw him coming. Where he went, followed, after all. "Hey, fellas!" he called in greeting as he drew to a halt next to them. "Would it be alright if I took her for a quick spin? Just a couple of laps - I really am a good pilot: I know I can handle her. What do you say?" A mumble of mixed greetings and excuses followed: the ship wasn't really up to speed yet; best not to take the risk until they'd tested her; his dad would probably want to be leaving by the time they'd got her ready to go. Luke looked from one to the other. The ship was ready to fly - they all knew that. With a sinking sensation, he realised what was going on. Nobody would risk involving themselves with the son of Vader - not for million credits. However, out of all the murmured voices of the mechanics, there was one that rose above them all. "Hey Luke - you fixed the thing. Without you, they'd no race today. Of course you can take her for a spin. Just let us give you a run-down of her systems, just in case. Right guys?" It was K'Hairn who had spoken and who was now glaring, meaningfully at his guilty-looking co-workers. They shuffled awkwardly but relented nonetheless. He was a good kid, despite everything else that came with him and as K'Hairn said, he HAD helped them. Now if only Lord Vader wouldn't them for this little act of kindness...  
  
"Thanks," Luke replied, giving the large, lead mechanic a grateful look.   
"No problem," he answered. "We'll just give the readouts another look-over and then prep you. Meanwhile, you should probably change your clothes, or at least put a suit on. Tell you what - head over that way to the Workers - they'll sort you out."  
"The Workers?"   
"Yeah - they're up-world today so make as much use of them as you can. There's one of them over there." He pointed a little way off to the side, where a figure stood, standing against a storage unit of building materials, near to the dockyard edge. Luke followed his gaze to the man in question and nodded. There was something familiar about that presence, he pondered. After gaining Vader's permission to move over by the docks, Luke headed off to find the Worker.   
  
As he neared the man, he called out, a little uncertainly. "Excuse me? One of your mechanic friends said you might be able to find me a flight suit for the races?" The man had his back to him, checking over the unit's inventory on a computerised list.   
"I don't work for the mechanics, Sir - but my owner's got business with them today. I'm sure I can help you out - what size do you...". As he spoke, he turned around, stopping short when he saw Luke, standing there and regarding him with an equally shocked expression.   
"Hamin?" Luke asked. "What are you doing here? I thought you worked for a naval manufacturing company?"  
Hamin appeared very uncomfortable, "Luke - I didn't think I'd see you here." There was an uneasy pause. "So," he began again, abruptly, "you're going to race then. Yes, you'll definitely need a suit then. Come with me, I think I can tell your size..."  
"Wait a minute!" Luke cut in, "if you don't work for the racers or the mechanics then why did K'Hairn tell me to go talk to you? And why did he call you a Worker?" Hamin sighed, gruffly.  
"Because I am," he replied, shortly. Just then, Luke noticed another figure, strikingly similar to Hamin - almost too pale to be healthy and dressed in similar dark clothes. It was an older man, carrying supplies of durasteel, too heavy for him by far, if his struggling expression was anything to go by. He looked back at Hamin. His friend had seen Luke's gaze wander - had known he'd made the connection. He now regarded Luke, a little angrily. ", do you want the flight suit or not?"  
"I don't want you to do for me!" Luke spat back, angrily, "and I'm not a SIR! God, I thought we were friends!"   
"Well now you know!" Hamin shot back, "I'm friends with no one - no one except MY kind! If I can't help you with anything then will you please excuse me? I have work to do." With that, he turned his back and began checking his inventory again, though Luke was sure he was only going through the motions.  
  
"Yeah - I'm sure you do. You are a 'Worker' after all, but I could think of another name for it!" Luke felt his hatred and anger swell within him. It took all of his effort to quell it - the last thing he wanted to do was alert his father. If Hamin resented him now, he could only imagine how he would feel if he discovered his parentage.   
"Leave me alone," Hamin demanded through clenched teeth - "please!"   
But Luke wasn't willing to leave it at that - he had to know, had to know everything. "K'Hairn said that you'd come 'up-world' today. What did he mean by that?" He waited for a moment as his companion merely held his ground. "Hamin, I'm not going away - I want to know - please, as a friend?" For a moment, he suspected that it once again, hadn't worked but then he noticed his friend's shoulders relax ever so slightly. Warily, he turned to face Luke.   
  
"We live under the ground - mining. The metals and alloys that go in to building the ships are only found in a few places but the content is concentrated. It takes almost a thousand of us to man the production lines each day. I've probably come 'up-world' maybe...twenty times this year - and I'm one of the fortunate ones. There are some who spend almost their entire lives in darkness." Luke was shaking his head, slowly.  
"I don't understand - why not just create jobs for mining - jobs?" Hamin smiled bitterly. "It's rumoured that it started off that way - hundreds of years ago. But the population was always greater than the supply and demand back then and pretty soon wages were debased over and over again until they were merely tokens of free labour. Then the suppliers and mine-owners decided to simply cut out that last token of freedom and stop the wage entirely. There are some who can't even remember when they began to be 'owned' instead of merely 'contracted'."  
"And the government does nothing?" Luke asked, incredulously.  
"Not much they're willing to do - they rely on the success of out industries to make Greco a higher power."  
  
"But there has to be that can be done to help!" Luke protested vehemently. "You think can change the fate of an entire planet?" Hamin asked, in disbelief.   
"You do."  
Hamin recoiled in shock. He recovered himself quickly, however. "What the Hell are talking about?" he demanded.  
"You believe you can help," Luke continued, seeing further into Hamin's mind then he would ever have thought possible. "If not the entire slave population, then something smaller, closer to home - your family. You want to get them out." Now Hamin was regarding him with outright suspicion, but also with more than a little wonder. "How in the Gods names are you doing that?" he breathed. Luke decided to shrug that comment off - he wasn't sure that he wanted to go into that explanation right now. "That doesn't matter. What matters is, that you have plans for more - for escape." At that, Hamin's face paled even more so and he cast a furtive look around him. "Shh!" he whispered, harshly. "Don't you realise the penalty for a slave plotting...well, you know!" Luke didn't, but he could probably guess. His grim expression was all the confirmation that Hamin needed. "Exactly." Luke kept his voice low but continued nonetheless:  
  
"But you DO have plans - don't you?" He took a step nearer to Hamin. "I swear, you can trust me. I'll do everything I can to help you, and your family."   
"And why would you want to do that?"  
"Because I think I can."  
Hamin shook his head, sadly but not without kindness. "You really think you can make a difference?"   
"Just try me?" he suggested, "How many offers like this do you get every day?" Hamin managed a small chuckle at that one. "Not all that many." He paused, fractionally before he continued. "Alright. You know about tagging, right?" Luke looked blank. "Tagging?"  
"It's standard practise for any slave market - there may be variations of method but essentially it keeps slaves from running away. Our version is actually quite tame compared to some planet's. While we're 'up-world', there are always people keeping a close watch on us, and transport on any unauthorised vessel other than a mining one, will set off a terminal reaction immediately."  
"What kind of reaction?"  
"Bio-engineered. It'd be fast working and kill within minutes - it's infectious for anyone nearby as well - if they're not wearing special suits. It's meant to discourage passers by from helping us. Down in the mines, a computer regulates the workers - monitors who moves where, who works in which sections - that sort of thing. The Monitor Consoles used to be manned but the Overseers have got lazy lately. They leave the running of the mines, essentially to the machines. My colleagues and I have been secretly working on a device. It's a small box that would attach on to the back of the main security nexus panel. Through it, in theory, we could feed false readouts into the systems: we could make the machines believe we were anywhere, doing anything. It would also deactivate the sensors in the mines that would trigger the biochemical reaction. We've been in contact with distant family in the desert regions. If we could steal a mining transport, we could hide away with them. Not all regions have slavery and so they'd be no sensors to trigger the terminal reactions."  
  
"But wouldn't that mean you could never come back home again?" Luke wondered. Hamin snorted, bitterly, "Like I'd shed any tears over that!"  
  
"And you'd never be missed at the mine?"  
"Oh sure, they'd figure it out eventually but by that time, I'm hoping we'd be far enough away to be free of them."  
"So," Luke reasoned, carefully, "if you know all this, what's stopping you from carrying out your plan." Hamin sighed.  
"Simple - Propeptin."  
"Pro-what?"  
"Propeptin. It's a naturally occurring metal substance found in this region but never underground - the computer designers made very sure of that when they built the machines. You see the 'boxes' we've designed have been made out of metals we've scavenged from the mining but the key, the one element that will make the units operational, is propeptin and no one can get that through to the mines. There are scanners for it in the entrances and each of us are searched and scanned for it every time we come from up-world. Even visitors are made to scan for it when they enter."  
  
Luke took all this information in. "Do you know where to find it up here?"  
"Sure. It's common goods - you could probably buy it in any systems store, but like I said, there's no use trying to get it into the mines without them knowing."  
He thought for a moment more. "You said the main entrances are scanned - are there any that wouldn't be? Any at all?"  
  
Hamin laughed. "Sure, if you don't mind swimming and can hold your breath!"  
"What do you mean?"  
"There's a dumping chute that opens out into the ocean - they chuck out all the slag and waste from the facility. On a more disturbing note, they can also use the same opening for fishing for an evening meal - we try not to think where the food's just come through."  
  
Ideas began whirling in Luke's head. "How big is the hatch?"   
Hamin narrowed his eyes and tried to recall the opening. "About 5 by 8. Why?"  
But Luke didn't answer. Instead he turned back to face the racetrack, scanning the length of it as far as he could see. Hamin followed his gaze, looking more than a little puzzled. "Luke? What's going on?" He didn't reply but suddenly asked. "Do you know this track well?"  
"Uh, yes, well enough." Luke pointed to a far corner of the track where it bent sharply round, almost out of sight, and where the dusty track ended, the sea began. "Anyone rounding that corner would be going too fast to turn at that sharp angle - how would they make the turn?"  
"They don't. That part of the race flies over the water in a wide arc - it's part of the attraction of this course - adds a little excitement, you know?" Luke could feel his heart pounding and he took a moment to dampen his emotions. "What happens if the racers crash over the sea?"  
"Air-tight - the ships. They'd be safe until someone could drag them up."  
"Do you know where this undersea opening is?" Hamin pointed - about a mile offshore was a little show of rocks, jutting up from beneath the water, the blue waves bouncing of them in showers of white foam. Luke saw it and immediately, almost instinctively, committed the image to memory.  
  
"OK, Luke - give a little! What are you thinking?"  
"I'm thinking," he replied, evenly, "That if someone were to spin out of control when taking that arc over the sea, then they might conceivably go under water on a path that would lead them almost directly to those rocks over there. If someone on the inside could open the hatch, then that ship would be small enough to get through..."  
Hamin cut him off, quickly. "Now wait a minute, Luke! Look, I appreciate all you're trying to do, really! But this is crazy! That entrance would barely fit one of those ships through on a careful manoeuvre - the speed you'd be coming in at - it'd be like trying to hit a target from a mile away - you'd never make it: you'd be crushed. I can't ask you to do that." Luke simply grinned.   
"Trust me on this one, Hamin - I can make it. How much propeptin will you need?" Hamin still couldn't believe they were having this conversation. "Uh, about 9 standard units - it's not that much in weight and bulk."  
"Can you get back to the mines quickly?"  
Hamin glanced at his watch. "There's a transport leaving in a few minutes - I could take the inventory back down."  
"And how long would it take to travel down there?"  
"Give or take, about half an hour, but Luke..."  
"Just get down there now. I can probably stall here for about that long before I take the test run - try and make sure the hatch is open as soon as possible - I can't swim, you know!"   
"You're kidding?"  
"No - I grew up in a desert, remember?"  
Hamin couldn't believe this kid was actually going to go through with this. "Luke, if something goes wrong with the ship and you have to bail out..."  
"Don't worry about me - I'll be fine. I'll pop in, give you the propeptin you need, and then pop back out again. People will never know what happened to me." Hamin still looked unsure but Luke ushered him on. "Just go! There isn't much time." Hamin gave him a doubtful nod before turning, and hurrying away, pushing the storage unit with him.   
  
Luke took a deep breath and then turned and trotted back over to the mechanics.  
He saw his father waiting nearby. As he approached him, he used all of his energies to shield his thoughts. "Father," he said, "I've arranged for some gear to wear. The others said that they would prep me on the ships systems before I flew. I think I know it all already but they wanted to be safe."  
  
"As do I, Luke," Vader insisted. He could sense something coming from his son - some kind of anxiety. He pushed it aside - it was probably just excitement about the racer.   
"Father?"  
"Yes, son?"  
"I noticed a systems store along the walkway shops. I've been meaning to pick up some supplies for my computers back on the base..."  
"You mean the useless ones you play your games on," Vader cut in. Luke grinned sheepishly. "Well, yeah, those ones. Anyway I was going to order it for delivery, but I thought, seeing as there was a shop right there that..."  
"I suppose you'll be needing credits for this as well, won't you?"  
"Well...I could try using the Force, I suppose..." Luke trailed off and, behind his mask, Vader gave a slight chuckle. "Perhaps when we're not on a diplomatic meeting, Luke." He handed the boy a small, rectangular card. "Do not let your excitement run away with you!" he warned. Luke shook his head, solemnly. "No, Father - and thank-you."  
  
As he made his way over to the store, a wave of guilt washed over him. He never would have thought it possible, but he actually felt badly about worrying his father. He would have to make it appear like a crash and his father doubtless knew that he couldn't swim. Until today, he hadn't even been sure that he worry his father - only anger him and that was certainly not a prospect that he enjoyed contemplating. And then there was Piett...  
But, he decided, if all went to plan, no one would have to know the truth. He glanced at his watch. Hamin should be on his way back to the mines by now, and then in no time at all, his role would begin.  
  
***  
  
TBC. Any comments or constructive criticisms will be gladly received. Thank-you for reading! 


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